


sunrise, coffee, peace

by sosgay



Category: Naruto
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Good Akatsuki (Naruto), M/M, it was supposed to be a descriptive writing exercise and i went crazy, itachi centric, no beta we die like asuma, rancher AU, wild west babey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28719807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sosgay/pseuds/sosgay
Summary: Itachi completed the ritual every morning, and every morning the beauty was still breathtaking. He sipped his coffee and stared out at the mountains. Lines of pink and purple bed across the sky, and the peaks of the mountains were highlighted in gold. He could see hints of soft green in the sagebrush, and dark orange rock outcroppings up in the highlands.
Relationships: Hoshigaki Kisame/Uchiha Itachi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	sunrise, coffee, peace

Itachi’s internal clock woke him just before dawn. He rolled over, habitually seeking warmth, and his fingers grabbed at cool sheets.

  
“Kisame…?” He murmured, looking around. The room was dark, but he could make out silhouettes. Kisame wasn’t standing next to the stove, where he usually huddled making coffee. He wasn’t napping in one of the chairs or sitting on the floor with the dogs. 

  
Itachi, sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He still wasn’t fully awake, but the confusion was quickly cutting through his sleepy haze. He rubbed his eyes. Either Kisame was in the outhouse, or…oh. He was out gathering herbs for dye this week. 

  
Sighing, Itachi crawled out of bed. The dogs whined and stood, shaking enthusiastically and trotting over for some pets. Itachi scratched them behind the ears, slowly making his way to the stove. There was still a steady bed of coals, so he grabbed a log and wedged it in. The edges caught quickly, and soon there was a crackling flame spreading warmth throughout the room. 

  
One of the dogs was already panting at the door. Itachi grabbed the coffeepot and headed over, letting her out. She barked joyfully and sprinted towards the fence line, sniffed around for a moment, and relieve herself. Her siblings ran out behind her, and they tussled around as Itachi made his way to the well. 

  
He could hear birdsong off in the distance. Surprisingly, the rooster hadn’t started going off yet. He set the coffee pot next to the spigot and started pumping. It took a few good hard pumps, but, creaking and sputtering, water started pouring out. Itachi paused in his efforts to grab a handful and throw it in his face. The water was bracingly cold, and he shook off the last dregs of sleep as he shivered. He grabbed the coffee pot and placed it under the stream of water, pulling it away as soon as it was full and letting the last of the water fill the trough. 

  
The dogs rand over and started drinking, still playfully snapping at each other. Itachi shoved patted their heads and walked back into the house. He set the pot on top of the stove and threw in another log. The water quickly heated. He walked over to the pantry, avoiding the table corner and the crumpled edge of the rug. It was still dark enough that he couldn’t see, but the coffee tin and grinder were both in their usual places. He grabbed them and set the grinder on the table. The smell of the beans flooded his nose as he opened the tin. He shook them into the grinder, inhaling deeply. He ground the beans and put the tin back in place, walking back around the other side of the table to grab a mug. 

  
He had a minute until the water was ready, so he started pulling off his long johns. He shook them out, folded them, and tucked them neatly into the top drawer of his dresser. He pulled out a new undershirt and drawers and rummaged through his shirt to find one of the lighter fabrics. He managed to find his last clean cotton shirt and sighed. He’d need to do laundry soon. He’d hoped Kisame would be back early and willing to help, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He quickly pulled on the shirt and his jeans and went back to check on the water. It was just about boiling, so he dumped in the grounds. They landed in a clump, which slowly dissolved into the roiling water and drifted down. He counted, patiently, and after 60 seconds pulled the pot off the heat and set it on the table. 

  
Coffee now brewing, he headed out towards the coop. The first beams of true dawn were creeping over the mountains, and the rooster was predictably happy about it. Itachi bumped the chicken gate with his hip and walked in as it swung open. He untied the coop latch and pulled the door open. 

  
“Hello ladies,” he said quietly, reaching in to check their water and feed. Both looked full enough to last the day, but would probably need to be refilled tomorrow. The chickens hopped down from their perches and fluttered out into the yard. The rooster strutted out last, letting out a triumphant crow when he saw the sunlight. Chickens done, he looked over at the goat pen and rolled up his sleeves. 

  
They had three goats—two feisty but manageable nannies and one terrible billy goat he’d nicknamed Madara. They kept him around as an unofficial guard dog. He’d already killed three coyotes, and Kisame joked that he’d take out any horse thieves who got with ten feet of him. Itachi was inclined to agree. The old fart was probably bulletproof. He flicked through the six latches on the goat gate and wandered over to the shed. He could hear Madara bleating ominously to himself, and stood to the side of the shed door. He flicked the locks open one by one and yanked the door open.

The goat bust out, snorting and panting. He charged about halfway to the fence before he got distracted by a patch of thorns and started eating. Itachi rolled his eyes and walked into the shed. One of the ladies was already sitting on the milking stand. Itachi patted her on the back and poured a handful of grain into the feeding trough. She started enthusiastically eating, and he was able to quickly set down a bucket and start milking. She finished her grain when he was about halfway through, but genially let him finish. He tried to kick the bucket, but he managed to grab it before it tipped over. 

  
“Hey,” he reprimanded gently, smacking her on the leg. She settled down, grumbling. The other lady wasn’t nearly as willing this morning and had to be lured into the milking stand with extra grain, then secured with an additional rope. Itachi finished the milking as quickly as possible and brought the full bucket back to the house. He pulled a clean pitcher down from the shelves and some dry cheesecloth from the pantry. He tied the cheesecloth around the rim with a piece of twine, and carefully strained the milk. After the bucket emptied out, he poured a splash of the milk into his mug and set the rest on the table, to be taken to the cellar later. He swirled the coffee around. It looked perfect, strong and hot with only a few grains flowing around on top. He grabbed the pot and mug and made his way out to the porch to watch the sunrise. 

  
He completed the ritual every morning, and every morning the beauty was still breathtaking. He sipped his coffee and stared out at the mountains. Lines of pink and purple bed across the sky and the peaks of the mountains were highlighted in gold. He could see hints of soft green in the sagebrush, and dark orange rock outcroppings up in the highlands. The sunlight pooled around his little farm, showcasing the bright red of the barn and outbuildings. One of the dogs shoved its nose under his hand and he scratched her absently, leaning back. A small smile crossed his face. 

  
“We’ve got a lot to do today,” he told the dog, still looking out at the scenery. She whined in response, tail rapidly whacking against the wooden deck. They sat in silence as the air brightened, the sky’s warm palette fading into a bright blue. There were a few tiny clouds skirting their way around the mountains. Itachi watched them for a moment, then stood, stretching his arms. He poured the coffee grounds out over the edge of the porch and whistled for the rest of the dogs. They ran up, panting, and tumbled back into the house. He ladled out their food and started making his own breakfast, cooking up oats in the fresh milk. He ate quickly as soon as it was done and brought the dishes back out to the well to be washed. He tidied everything away and set the bucket at the door, to be taken back out when he shut the goats in for the night. He dropped the milk in the cellar on the way to the outhouse. The milk properly stored, he considered the house. The dogs were happy, the chickens were clucking away, and it was time for the workday to start. 

  
Itachi hadn’t really planned to be a farmer. He’d planned to follow his family’s orders and become a lawyer, and then a politician. He’d been halfway through law school when he had realized that enough was enough, and cut himself off from the rest of the family, and moved west. He’d worked at a few different odd jobs and…other activities before finally settling down as a weaver’s apprentice. The steady click of the shuttle across the loom brought him a peace he’d never found back east. He’d struck out further west when the land claims opened, and he settled a patch close to his friends. It was rocky and only about ten acres could sustain grain, but the rest was good grazing land for animals that could access it. So he’d bought sheep. 

  
The flock was currently at twenty-three heads. Last season’s lambing had gone well, and they were planning to sell off a few of the lambs once they reached six months. Shearing had ended last month, and their storeroom was currently full of unwashed wool. Itachi was cleaning and spinning it as quickly as he could, but with Kisame gone, he’d been forced to slow his pace and focus on the farm. Hence his task for the day: checking the fences. He made his way into the barn, patting the sheep as he made his way to the stalls. The sheep took up a solid three-quarters of the space, and the rest was a small section for their horses and the mules. Kisame’s horse was big, gentle, and blue. His name was Samehada, and he’d been liberated from a particularly nasty settler in the Arizona territory. Itachi’s horse Mangekyo (Mango to friends) was much smaller. She was a light-footed black mare, quick and adept at weaving through difficult terrain. 

  
“Hi girlie,” he said, patting her on the nose and slipping her a chunk of carrot. She huffed, soft lips catching on his callouses as she ate the treat. He poured a scoop of grain into her feed trough and pulled out her tack. He made her a new saddle blanket every year because she deserved it. This year he’d used their leftover purple yarn to make a lavender-like pattern on a light grey background. Once the blanket was settled he heaved the saddle over, buckled it a checked the girth. He waited until she’d finished eating to slip the bridle on. She whinnied quietly but accepted it, chewing a few times to get used to the metal. Itachi double-checked the tack and then led her out, tying the reins to a post just outside the main door. 

  
He heaved the door open and the sheep poured out, bleating. The dogs sat at attention, watching for Itachi’s signal. Itachi mounted and kicked Mango into a trot, whistling for the dogs to follow. The dogs barked and leaped into action, guiding the sheep into a relatively steady column. Itachi led them out to the closer northern pasture, about a five-minute ride away. The sheep settled down and the dogs slumped onto their bellies, panting and smiling. Itachi waited for a few minutes, and when none of the sheep made a break for it, whistled for one of the dogs to join him. He set off further north, following the fence line. 

  
Checking the fences was an arduous task, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as digging them. There were just over three miles of fencing on the farm, and it needed to be checked thoroughly at least once a month. Itachi was grateful that the farm was relatively small; his neighbors Both had plots of land at least three times the size of his. He finished the loop of the first pasture in about forty-five minutes and had only needed to mark one location for repair. The next three pastures were a bit tricker, and he’d needed to mark two other locations. So, three repairs in total. He looked up at the sun. It was still a few hours away from overhead, so if he hurried he’d be able to eat lunch on the porch. He made his way back to the homestead at a canter and led Mango to the water trough while he went to the shed to grab supplies. Luckily for him, all of the fence posts had been intact, and the few areas where the fence was sagged or twisted could be fixed with some extra wire and a pair of pliers. 

  
He stowed the supplies in his saddlebags and headed back out. He checked on the sheep on the way and gave the dogs some pats. The fence repair went as smoothly as he’d hoped, and he was back in the house before noon. He took Mango’s bridle off and let her graze, then wandered out into the garden and considered what to make for lunch. The tomatoes were just starting to ripen, and a few would be ready this week. He considered them for a moment, then moved over to the okra. He plucked the biggest pods and nodded. They’d be very good with the leftover bacon and beans. He filled a bucket with water and settled into the kitchen, chopping the okra and dropping it into the cast iron with the bacon. It was more than he’d expected, and would probably work for dinner as well. His habit of cooking for two was inescapable at this point, apparently. 

  
It was absolutely delicious, though. He sat on the porch again to eat, lazily watching the road. He didn’t anticipate any visitors, but you never knew. He finished his lunch and stretched. No tell-tale cloud of dust had popped over the horizon. He’d put a fleece in to soak yesterday, so it should be ready for washing. He grabbed a bucket and headed out to the well. 

  
The weaving room was Itachi’s sanctuary. It changed depending on the season, but it always felt peaceful. It was currently full of a mixture of raw fleece, spun wool, and last year’s finished pieces. He took it one fleece at a time, and tended to wash, then card, then spin. 

  
He set the large washing-tub on top of the woodstove and stoked the fire. He dumped in the first bucket of water, then went out to fill another. Three buckets later, the tub was ready and slowly heating. Back in the weaving room, he checked the soaking fleece. He pulled it out, one bundle at a time, and set the bundles on a rack to dry. He went in to check the hot water. It was close to boiling, so he carefully lifting it off of the heat and set it on the table. He poured in soup, stirred it around with a wooden paddle, and checked the consistency. It felt good, so he lifted the tub again and carried it back. He set it onto the main table and carefully dunked the wool bundles, pressing them down with the paddle. Once they were all submerged, he grabbed the tub of the soaking water and dumped it outside. He rinsed it with the last of the well water and set it on the stove, then filled it again. He let it warm until it was just cooler than the wash water, then brought it back as well. 

  
He waited a few more minutes and lifted the bundles from the washtub to the rinse tub. His hands moved almost automatically—he’d been doing this for so long that muscle memory kicked as soon as he touched the wool. All of the bundles now transferred, he inspected the rinsing bundles, the rinse water was relatively clear and the bundles looked clean, so he wouldn’t need an additional wash. He wiped the rack off and pulled a dry scrap of fabric from the shelves. He plucked the bundles out of the rise, dried them individually, and set them on the rack. He left them to dry while he dumped and rinsed the tubs, and pulled out his carding combs. 

  
The wool bundles took a while to dry, so pulled another fleece down and started picking through it to pull out various sticks and clumps of clay. It took almost an hour to pick through the whole fleece, and another few minutes to fill a tub and start the pre-soak. By the time it was ready the wool was dry, so Itachi pulled it down bundle by the bundle and lined up the carding combs. The repetitive motion of the combs soothed him, and his mind wandered as piles of clean, soft wool fell into his spinning basket. He wondered what Kisame was doing, what random roots he was digging up, and the beetles he was investigating. He also thought about his brother. Sasuke had rebelled too and was out bounty hunting somewhere further south. He stopped by the farm on occasion, if he needed a place to sleep or was chasing an outlaw. 

  
Hours later, he noticed that the wool was gone, and the sun was getting low. He stood, stretched, and jogged out back. Mango was contentedly grazing. The mules were close by, lazing in a patch of shade. He considered putting her bridle back on and shrugged. She was well behaved enough, and it was a short ride. He climbed into his seat and urged her into a canter. She tossed her head and obeyed, lunging forward. 

  
He made it out to the sheep and greeted the dogs, whistling to them while he circled. They spread out, gathering the sheep back into a column and making their way back to the barn. They thundered into the paddock as the first red rays of sunset crossed the scrub grass. He hopped down and led Mango back into her stall. He took off the saddle, then combed and wiped her down. She nuzzled at his shirt, clearly searching for a treat. He smiled and pulled another carrot out of his pocket. 

  
“Good girl,” he whispered, stroking her mane. She burped. 

  
He coaxed the mules in with another carrot and made sure the sheep’s water trough was full. Barn set, he closed up the main door and checked on the goats. They were still wandering around, so he let them be for now. The chickens were starting to make their way inside. He refilled their water tins while he was thinking about it, and pulled some extra water for the dogs. They collapsed happily inside, one lounging on the rug and the other two scrambling up to grab water when offered. 

  
Itachi re-started the fire and heated up his dinner. He pulled a chunk of bread down from the shelf and chewed on it while the okra and bacon warmed up. He set the fire for the night and sat on one of the chairs. He let himself relax for a moment, after dinner, then watched as the last light faded and stood with a quiet grunt. He locked in the chickens and goats (Madara threw him a beady-eyed glare) and checked all of the gates. 

  
The homestead secure, he sat back inside to work on the spinning. He made it through half of the basket before his yawns forced him to stop. He grabbed a bucket from the well and drank his fill, then cleaned his teeth and face. He pulled out his clothes, laid his jeans out, and wiped his body down with a washcloth before pulling on his long johns and heading to bed. 

  
“Night, Kisame,” he whispered, curling into a loose ball on his side. 

  
He dreamed about the ocean. He was floating, water gently lapping at the side of his face. Far across the ocean, a horse appeared. It galloped towards him, hooves sending up sheets of white foam as they crashed into the water. The hoofbeats grew louder and louder, and whinny broke him out of the dream entirely. He sat up slowly. He could hear something outside. The garden gate creaked open. Itachi silently slid out of bed and grabbed his gun. He grabbed the latter by the door and lit if with careful fingers. He opened the door slowly and approached the garden, gun at the ready. The small pool of light illuminated the empty path, then the gate, then the cucumbers, then the squash, then his brother. 

  
Itachi blinked. Sasuke, crouched in the tomatoes, blinked back. He had one tomato in his mouth, one in his hand, and two suspicious bulges in his shirt pocket. 

  
“Sasuke?” 

  
Sasuke slowly reached up and pulled the tomato out of his mouth. “Hello, big brother.” 

**Author's Note:**

> heyyyyyy so we were talking about a wild west!akatsuki au in the discord and then I fell completely in love with the idea of rancher itachi. if I turn this into a whole fic it'll be called "five times sasuke uchiha was caught stealing his brother's tomatoes and one time he asked for them like a normal person"  
> this isn't beta'd at all so pls be delicate 
> 
> come say hi on tumblr, I'm @sos-gay :)))


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